


Let's Conspire To Ignite

by mistyegg



Series: Midnight Oil [16]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drabble, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 21:49:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18881914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyegg/pseuds/mistyegg
Summary: Prompt: sympathy, sheep, phone.





	Let's Conspire To Ignite

**Author's Note:**

> there's this one slowburn whamilton fic that's killing me and basically made me adopt the idea of george not getting with alexander bc of age gap. that's it; that's the plot
> 
> george is italics, alex is bold.
> 
> title from starlight by muse

It was four in the morning, and George Washington was still wide awake, tossing and turning in his bed and not being able to fall asleep. The worst part is that he knew why; no matter how many times he tried to fall asleep to the mental picture of counting sheep, Alexander’s face appeared and caused him to jerk awake in a thin sheet of sweat.

It was his fault, of course. He shouldn’t have given in and kissed him in the privacy of their office, shouldn’t have focused on the way Alexander had startled against him before growing too comfortable in the kiss. George groaned now and shoved his head under his pillow, right as his phone dinged from his bedside table.

**[4:29am]: you awake?**

George paused when he saw it, debating whether to ignore it and pretend yesterday didn’t happen, or to respond and own up to his behaviour.

**[4:31am]: i can see you left me on read**   
  
Well, there goes the first idea. George pulled his phone off charge and simply lied in bed, suddenly more comfortable under the covers than he was previously. He ignored that.

_ [4:32am]: I’m awake. _

**[4:32am]: you gonna keep ignoring me?**

So no playing around; George expected not much else, really.

_ [4:33am]: I don’t think you’d let me _   
  
**[4:34am]: nope. were talking about it**

_ [4:34am]: There’s nothing to discuss, Alexander. What happened today was a moment of weakness, and I apologise for it. It won’t happen again. _

**[4:35am]: oh for fuck sakes, old man**

Alexander was calling him. He let the phone ring twice before he caught up and answered it, hesitant to put it to his ear. “Alexander?”   
  
“Don’t sound confused, you had this coming,” Alexander responded, and he sounded tired. George had the sudden urge to pull Alexander in his bed and never let him leave until he sounded well rested, and seriously, this was becoming a problem. George instead of saying this, sighed and hoped frustration sounded through his voice. “You fucking kissed me.”   
  
“That I did.”   
  
Alexander groaned, thick with sleep or exhaustion, but most likely both. “Is that it? You kissed me just then because i looked pretty, huh? You don’t seem the type.”   
  
“Alexander-”

“I bet you didn’t even think about what I was feeling. But you know what, George? I’ve been wanting that was so fucking long now, and now you’re turning and taking it back without an explanation-”   
  
“You know it wouldn’t be good reputation for our jobs,” George cut off.   
  
“To hell with that! Nobody would damn care and you know it; you’re the boss and everyone, everyone, respects you too much to talk shit,” Alexander paused. “Except maybe Jefferson, but what else is new.”

“Do you... really think that, Alexander?”   
  
“...What?” He sounded halfway to sleep already. George briefly wondered what he looked like as he was falling asleep - he’d never seen Alex anywhere near relaxed while at the office.

“That I kissed you only because you’re pretty.”   
  
George can almost picture Alexander shrugging. “What am I supposed to think. That you pushed me away after a sorry excuse for a kiss because you’re head over heels for me?”   
  
Silence.

“See? I thought-”   
  
“I do adore you, Alexander. Much more than I should.”  
  
“H-How much?”   
  
The stutter was cuter than it should’ve been. George grinned, and hoped that showed through the phone. “We should talk tomorrow morning. When’s your first meeting?”   
  
A shuffling of papers. “Ten thirty.”   
  
“Be in my office by nine at the latest.”   
  
“Yes, sir.”


End file.
